


an unknown quantity

by machibouke



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, Cosplay, Crack, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vignettes, pervert!nino
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7073710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machibouke/pseuds/machibouke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so this was porn without a lot of the porn, i guess. sorry. i like teasing nino. he always seems so sure he's going to get what he sets out to do. ;p</p><p>set during 2006/2007, if you got all of the references. i wrote these ages ago. any grammatical mistakes are my own fault; i hate proofreading my own stories. plus...i probably screwed up the chronology of this a lot. sorry again!</p></blockquote>





	an unknown quantity

 

 

**1 – we become so numb to what we’re saying.**

“Sho-chan, have you ever heard of airplane bathroom sex?”

Sho quite literally chokes on his complimentary drink (which is an unfortunate citrus flavour that burns his lungs when it goes down the wrong way). He swats at Nino in delayed shock, grabbing handfuls of the napkins sitting beside him to dab at his dripping mouth. The other man just lets out a laugh around his knowing smile.

Across the aisle, without even having to look, Sho knows that Ohno is fast asleep (and consequently drooling all over his customary in-flight pillow); and behind him, Jun is semi-dormant with his earphones plugged in. Then there’s Aiba, also curled up in an impossible ball of sleep in the seat opposite Jun and sleep-murmuring about the welfare of his pets back in Japan. In short, three-fifths of Arashi had fallen victim to the time zone differences and were all completely oblivious to their surroundings until they arrived in Thailand. But the genuinely curious question Nino posed still sets Sho’s teeth on edge.

A passing stewardess smiles sweetly to the pair of them in turn, entirely unassuming and unaware of what is truly going on.

Sho smiles to her stiffly and wipes a hand across his cheek, his face changing into a grimace. “You are so… _weird_ …seriously…”

Nino simply cocks his head to the side without saying a thing—doesn’t admit to the fact that those words are more than likely true, if not a perfectly sound description of who he is. Granted, the two of them had been really good friends for just under a decade now, but that didn’t necessarily mean Sho was used to this side of Nino. It didn’t surface a whole lot, but when it did, Sho made sure he wasn’t there to suffer from it. Only when the five of them were in public would Nino grow a brain and draw a line. Sho suddenly wishes they weren’t on their own private jet, when less than half an hour ago he’d been quite chuffed at the very thought of flying on aircraft that was theirs and theirs only.

He notices there is a challenging degree to the way Nino finally smiles.

“Come on. You _must_ have heard of it. They have those smutty storylines in porn all the time. I guess some people just can’t control themselves for ten hours.”

“Nino, please.”

“I happen to know you have a very extensive porn collection on your laptop, Sho-chan. You’re pretty partial to a firm plot, huh? Not all about the graphics and aesthetics? Could have fooled me,” Nino shrugs with finality.

Sho’s ears burn. He can feel them along with the rest of his reddening face. “Would you be talking about this if we were on a business-class flight surrounded by perfectly normal people and kids?” he hisses, appalled.

Yes, he is trying to deviate away from the topic a little on how and _why_ Nino is suddenly all knowledgeable on the existence of his private virtual stash (and the elaboration of his preferences—what _was_ that?). And yes, he is also panicking at the same time trying to brainstorm a few new login details that are not as easy to guess as his current work-orientated one.

“I wouldn’t, of course,” Nino insists languidly. “I’d text you instead. Because how rude would it be chatting about our sex lives in public? Not to mention risky. Although, it would be something that turned me on…thinking that other people could be eavesdropping…”

There is always something about how disturbingly casual and wondering Nino is whenever he discusses these things. The general public really had no idea how sexually perverse Ninomiya Kazunari really was. To the rest of Arashi, he was a closet sex-freak and porn enthusiast (he even owned a few gags and sex toys somewhere in that cluttered apartment of his, Jun once informed the rest of them after visiting). What man _wasn’t_ a bit perverted, really? But Nino took it to a whole new extreme. With only Sho falling victim to it, naturally. Ohno also did once in a while, but it was Sho who caught the brunt of the advances.

Nino suddenly swings his head around and glances behind him in the direction of the restroom. Sho scratches his brow with his index finger and downs the rest of his drink with a grimace. It had no alcohol in it, but he needed something to do with himself in that moment. It was going to be a tense eight-hour flight (with approximately seven hours to go), and misty white clouds blurring outside the window aren’t always the most fascinating source of entertainment, no matter how much Sho appreciates the creations of nature. So he figures he might as well humour Nino with this line of conversation. So long as it didn’t hold any direct substance that would fuck with his mind for the rest of their trip.

He acts cavalier and primly points out, “For starters, this is a jet. Therefore, wouldn’t it then be _jet_ bathroom sex?”

Nino’s face changes dramatically. He nods, a hand rubbing under his chin. “Good point. Trust you to get all technical.” He smiles once more. “I can compromise.”

Sho’s nostrils flare involuntarily. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know. You. And me.” Nino sets off the little lever in his chair that allows it to jerk forward a few centimetres (he, Ohno and Sho had all located this earlier on and found it hilarious—Sho wasn’t finding it so funny right now though). He pointedly leans into Sho’s space, then jerks his chin over his shoulder without breaking eye contact. “In the restroom. Need I say anymore?”

Folding his arms, Sho lets out a long exhale through his nose. As usual, Nino had taken his acknowledgement of the bathroom topic out of context and confused it with approval.

“You’re deluded if you think I’m doing anything with you in that toilet.”

Undeterred, Nino checks his phone lazily out of the corner of his eye and does a bit of mental math. “Seven hours is a long time. We should do something productive with it, no?”

Sho leans back in his seat decisively (not really—he’s just trying to leave more space between them because Nino hasn’t moved his chair back yet). He stews through an even deeper disbelief if possible.

Nino’s unbridled interest in sex was off-putting at the best of times, but even more so in the air on a jet where all Sho was really aiming to do with his time was nap and mentally ready himself for the tour ahead of them.

He hoists up his rucksack and patiently drags out the things he needs one by one: a bound notebook, a pen, his music player, and some earphones. His face is dark and somewhat baleful.

“Is hygiene your problem? Because we won’t go near the actual toilet,” Nino says conversationally. “Unless it’s really cramped in there, because then it can’t—“

“Nino,” Sho cuts across him tightly. “The day I think _any_ kind of bathroom sex is productive, I’ll get back to you.”

That effectively cuts off the flow of conversation, and Sho shoves in his earphones, the blaring sounds of good old X JAPAN songs filling his senses. Nino is acting a lot like he does when he’s drunk—pitiful, overimaginative and crass (with never enough energy to carry out his outspoken impulses)—but none of them had even touched alcohol since their last string of concerts in Fukuoka, Nagoya and Yokohama over a week ago.

Nino does nothing. For a split second, he eyes the camcorder they had been using earlier to film behind-the-scenes footage for the upcoming tour DVD. It is poking out of his carry-on bag on the floor, inviting for some reason, but he must think better of it. He stuffs his hands in his lap, knotting his fingers together and solemnly sharing a look with Sho. “I’ll be waiting,” he says quietly. Like he just _knows_ that, more often than not, Sho inevitably gave up the _I’m not interested_ act and surrendered himself to whatever Nino wanted to try out next.

Well, Nino was wrong this time. Now all Sho really wants to do is shut his eyes and attempt the nap he had scheduled for himself, but he stuffily pulls his notebook towards him instead and gets started on the new freestyle rap he’d been playing around with during the long check-in at Haneda Airport. This is only a temporary solution, though; he realizes this a tad too late.

Because sure, in an audial sense, he had blocked out Nino and his tasteless talk, but that doesn’t really stop his eyes from wandering and disregarding his solid resolve. At least, Sho had once thought of it as solid. From over the spiralled top of his notebook, he spies Nino crossing his legs and subtly driving his pillow into his lap while his resigned gaze is focused beyond the little window. There’s not a whole lot to look at, since it is past midnight in whatever time zone they’re currently flying through and therefore pitch black outside. But Nino holds his pose with impressive interest.

Ohno jerks awake from across the aisle and immediately looks to Sho questionably, as if he had sensed something was amiss near him. Sho gives him a wan smile, greets him with a “good morning” and sinks further into his chair. He tries his best to knuckle down, but it proves impossible for a second time to get his thoughts to flow the way he needed them to.

A few seconds after that, the seatbelt light goes off, and Nino jumps up, disappearing into the tiny room down the hall that is the restroom. Sho fidgets uncomfortably while he’s gone, rapping his pen against half-filled paper and hating himself. If he knew how to draw, he’d doodle. He briefly considers striking up a conversation with Ohno about looking forward to their free time in Thailand, but the man had dozed off again, and Nino makes his return quietly.

He flashes a smile Ohno’s way, bypasses Sho’s gaze and puts his own earphones in with a renewed sort of calm, settling into a restful sleep.

Sho knows what has transpired. He’s not stupid. Nobody spends five minutes in a toilet and actually does what the room is meant for. He watches the outcome of this with frustrating envy, trying hard to battle with and ignore his own growing moment of internal tension. The irony is not lost on him, but there is nothing he can do about it now, even if he wanted to; the moment had passed. Nino was knocked out. And Sho had conveniently forgotten to bring his personal laptop along with him on the trip—that porn would have come in handy right about now.

So he copies Nino by pushing his in-flight pillow over his crotch and sits the notebook on top of it, willing both ends of his body to shut up and concentrate. He can’t sleep, so he might as well work.

Sho devotes the remainder of the flight to writing out verses that aren’t very creative and just mainly contain expedient rhymes. Nothing good, nothing worthy of being included in an album song. His thoughts pass him little interludes featuring many shades of Nino, asking him iniquitous questions like _why do you resist him? Why can’t you just tell him yes? Why is it always no?_ Followed closely by the stern thought: _you know what you want, stop being so proud and just do it_.

As a result of this, those thoughts quickly crossfade into scenes of ice-cold showers, pungent-smelling sneakers after hours of using the cross-trainer at his local gym, and then anything else that wasn’t related to the man dozing peacefully less than a metre away from him (Nino still hadn’t moved the chair back to its original place and the distance was negligible). Sho has to slide all the way back in his seat just to make sure their knees wouldn’t knock and set off another slideshow of images in his head.

It doesn’t work. Nino is notorious for his bad sleep habits, which include a varying line-up of teeth-grinding, moaning and talking about nonsensical things like tomatoes and his mother’s unending complaints about the mess in his apartment.

Today, the little grunting and moaning sounds are showing up a lot more often than Sho has ever known them to. Wondering if Nino is doing it on purpose or if it’s just his subconscious, Sho piles his things into his bag and makes a beeline for the restroom.

By the time they’re crossing over the border of Thailand, it’s safe to say Sho is leaning more towards the apparent advantages of having any kind of sex in a restroom while on a plane. More than he would ever like to admit. He just wishes he had actually given it a proper go when the opportunity had presented itself.

Not that he’ll ever tell Nino.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**2 – some things we don’t talk about/better do without.**

Sho really wonders what Nino is up to when they’re paired together for a _Mago Mago_ trip to the Nagano prefecture. Not that he really has reason to be suspicious; it’s a perfectly average arrangement, and they’ve done it before. According to the roster, it’s their turn to be someone’s labourers for the day, and then it’s Jun and Aiba allocated for Friday.

Admittedly, it’s pretty uneventful on the drive over—but Sho knows better. When in Ninomiya Kazunari’s company, anything is on the table, and there is a need to be wary. Sho has learned that the hard way over the years, regrettably. The conversation they shared on the way to Thailand a couple of months ago is still disturbingly fresh in his mind, along with the epiphany he’d had afterwards.

However, upon meeting the elderly couple they’re charged with, Sho and Nino find themselves caught up in an alternate side-mission: they must inject some much needed love into this very platonic relationship. It sadly wasn’t uncommon for couples to marry during the war-torn days simply for the sake of getting the marriage certificate and reproducing for the dwindling population of Japan. Therefore, romance and love were never really factored into the equation.

Nino takes it upon himself to make it happen.

It was never too late to fall in love, after all. They find out a lot of vital information during the _Love-Love Talk_ ; Nino is visibly shocked to discover that the old woman and man haven’t even held hands, kissed or been on a proper date and yet has an adult child together.

“Just goes to show,” Nino mumbles shrewdly once he and Sho jog outside to prepare their proper work outfits and Sho gets ready to harvest a few apples with the elderly man. “You can have a relationship and not kiss or constantly fuck each other on a daily basis. Who knew?”

His tone is one of genial surprise. Sho, dismayed and stunned at the bluntness, doesn’t even bother asking where that theory’s logic was heading.

-

While they take a short break outside to discuss the schematics of Nino’s impromptu “Love-Love” plan for the elderly couple who are still weirdly offstandish with each other, Sho is in a slightly better mood after lunch. Having a full stomach always did the trick. Nino’s purposely oversized onigiri had hit the spot, even if it _had_ been a bit much to take in at first—coupled with Nino’s comment that he liked things “big”.

“Look how deserted those orchards are,” Nino observes quietly from beside him. They’re sitting on the little porch of the house, so he points left to where the fields are full of apple trees. “Nobody would ever be found in there.”

Sho sucks in a breath through his nose, gathering patience in small scattered pieces.

“ _No_.”

“No what?”

“First you wanted to do it in a bathroom on an airborne jet, and now on a farm in an apple orchard?” Sho bursts indignantly, because short tempers be damned in these situations that Nino kept putting them in. “Honestly, Nino. You have no sense of self-control!”

Nino croaks out a humourless laugh, his head sinking between his perched arms on his knees. “That’s rich coming from you. For all the sex you give off during concerts and shoots, you’re pretty prudish, huh? Are you asexual or something?” When Sho doesn’t bother giving the firing-off of questions any answers, he laughs again. “And who said anything about sex or having sex? I was just admiring nature. And thinking that it would be pretty easy to get lost between those trees if it were night time or something. Don’t you agree?” He shoves Sho in the shoulder good-naturedly. “Geez, Sho-chan. Get your head out of the gutter already.”

Sho blinks away his surprise and closes his mouth. He bites down on his lower lip in frustration. How was he the bad guy here? He mutters a quick apology under his breath anyway; it _was_ a bit wrong of him to make that assumption. To his credit, Nino kept himself in check _most_ of the time. The jet incident was a one-off thing if he discounted all the times Nino wanted to do stuff during their junior and rookie years before Arashi’s career too off and got too serious.

Of course, Sho was still a total prude back then (contrary to public opinion) and said no to a lot of the experimentation suggestions. Things had not changed too much since then, clearly.

He takes a slow and pensive drink of water in repentance.

“But now that you mention it, it _does_ look pretty secluded,” Nino murmurs in approval, peering ahead and ducking out of the sudden ray of sunlight in his eyes. “How about it? Would you get down and dirty in there?”

For lack of emotional response, Sho chokes and proceeds to hurl his water bottle at Nino’s ahead. Except, thanks to his shitty aim, it misses the mark altogether, bouncing off the railing and onto the grass. The cold water cascades everywhere, drenching all of Nino’s head and both of Sho’s legs.

Sho groans while Nino smiles thinly, leaning back on an elbow and running a hand through his long, now damp hair. “I tend to like it better when it’s wet anyway. What do you think?” he asks in a neutral voice, as if posing for a magazine shoot and answering one of the standard interview questions with one of his own. His expression is drawn-out and deliberate—what some may perceive as “sex-face”—and it takes Sho a second to realize Nino is seeking his opinion on how he looks.

That’s when he stands up and raises his arms in surrender. “I’m done,” he announces, sloshing off in his saturated boots with a feverish face back into the couple’s house.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**3 – my life gets kind of boring/it’s something that I can’t confess.**

It’s been announced that Arashi is officially in production mode for another film starring the five of them together. The big deal of it is that it’s the first time in three years.

The overall mood is pleasant on shoot. Personally, Sho is thrilled. He can’t wait to finally show a more serious side of himself in a movie capacity, and his character sounds solemn and quite reserved with a mellow outlook on his modest life. He still has a bit of a dorky aspect to his personality, plus he’s into literature, so it allows Sho to slip more easily into his role and relax a little.

The only downside to taking on this project (aside from the ass-o’clock hours they have to record at) is that Mukai Ryuzo requires an addition in aesthetic terms. So is no stranger to having to change himself physically for a job, but growing a beard proves to be quite the challenge. He expresses his escalating worries to Ohno, who cheerfully suggests that he should “have more sex”.

“I’m sorry?” he stammers weakly in return, not quite following the pitch.

Ohno points down to his crotch wordlessly. He then adjusts his hat and takes another bite out of his milk bun.

Sho lightly inquires if he has been spending a bit _too_ much time with Nino as of late. Or on second thought, maybe it’s just the heat. It’s getting to all of them—especially the younger ones.

As if on cue, Nino plops down onto the bench next to them and leans over with a shit-eating grin, showing his middle finger and index finger tightly twined together. “We’re like _this_ , me and Oh-chan. He’d do it with me in the apple orchards any day. Wouldn’t you, Satoshi?”

“Apples sound good this time of year,” Ohno comments irrelevantly. His eyes are trained on the bridge in front of them. Nino rolls his eyes, expecting that kind of droll response.

Meanwhile, Sho is unable to believe that Nino is still holding that farm idea against him. He opts to spend the rest of his breaks with Jun and _only_ Jun, seemingly the only other sane member in Arashi. “Sane” connoting that he wasn’t constantly, unhealthily affixed on the subject of sex, sex, sex (which was the total opposite of his current public image, Sho notes in slight amusement). Jun instead eagerly chats to Sho about a renewed interest in medicinal herbs and their properties and how they clear the sinuses during the winter and spring. And would Sho like a health magazine subscription from America for his next birthday? Sure.

Sho absorbs the information on which herbs are not so good for your digestive health, the spices that are okay to add to dishes, and why the naturally-grown ones from Hokkaido are not only good for sinuses but also the best for regular bowel movements.

Of course, Jun is also between script-reading sessions for the second instalment of _Hana Yori_ and its consequent recordings, so he can only come by the set for so long. His role in the whole movie is only a minor one because of that.

And Sho discovers after a few short-lived chats with Aiba that the man tends to start ranting about how the monkey on his show is mistreating the staff and alienating him from the other cast members, which Sho believes to be far from the truth (but he doesn’t have it in him to tell Aiba it’s probably a personality flaw), so naturally he finds himself wedged between Nino and Ohno once more with their strange digressions and broken conversations.

Eventually, he comes to understand what Ohno meant by having more sex. As wrong as it sounded at first. From a biological viewpoint, it would boost his testosterone levels and therefore speed up the hair growth process.

Sho sees the logic in that. Hypothetically, that is. His life is too eventful to even fit in a few sessions with _anyone_ right now.

While scratching the pathetic excuse for stubble on his chin, Sho also sees the knowing look Nino throws him when Ohno brings up the sec topic for a third time right in the middle of their conversation about the upcoming J-League tournament and which team is going to win.

He ends up walking off the set and lighting up a smoke because the whole ridiculousness of the situation is getting to him way more than it really should.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**4 – is this the real life, or is it just fantasy?**

It’s fair to say that Sho is not in the greatest of spirits. And he has every reason to feel like crap.

After the latest _Shukudai-kun_ episode, featuring the loathsome return of face-contorting stockings and the newcomer Muki-Muki man, he feels like he’s pretty much lost the last dregs of his dignity and is convinced they are never to be recovered again. What’s more, he has also lost all faith in the entertainment industry. Who found him being lifted into the air with his legs spread apart (and at the same time accidentally flashing himself in the process thanks to his traditional clothing) even remotely funny? Perverted fangirls, maybe—he had plenty of those and the production crew knew it. They played on it. They got off on it. Anything for ratings, money, and the rare chance to make a national idol look like a complete idiot on TV. His crisp new reputation as a newscaster was already going to hell. He should have known he couldn’t get away with a clean slate while working in two different fields—not while he was still associated with Arashi the crazy antics they got up to almost every day. Jun shared his pain of wanting a more respectable career, but he was just about the only one. Majority overruled in the end.

The following morning after said episode, he is disgruntled (groggy at best), and they have a small meeting to attend. When a producer casually brings up the show’s statistics—and the fact that the episode that had brought Sho so much humiliation got pretty fair viewer ratings, Sho’s mood plummets even further. He knows what’s coming after that announcement: even crazier stuff that he won’t be able to see coming. And more of Aiba’s ludicrous ideas that everybody will jump on board with (again, excluding Jun).

The producer then shuffles papers and asks, “Has anyone seen Ninomiya-san this morning?”

This takes Sho by surprise. Normally he’d be the first to notice someone in their crowd missing in action— _especially_ if it was one Ninomiya Kazunari. It takes him even more by surprise to come to terms with just how self-absorbed he’d been the whole morning. That tended to happen when you were recently humiliated on national television. The producers weren’t the ones who had to put up with countless phone calls from Sho’s father and his secretary, both barking down the phone with complaints about ruining the Sakurai family image and reputation.

He is slightly worried about Nino’s whereabouts until Jun speaks up.

“He texted me to say he’d be a few minutes late,” Jun vouches coolly, voice grouchy and tired due to the early time. “Something about the snooze button hating him. He got a new alarm clock yesterday, you see, because he threw his old one at the wall last week and smashed it to pieces.”

The AD looks at Jun patiently as if to say _too much information_ , but he swaps around a few more papers and smiles, only just.

“I’m sure you can all fill Ninomiya-san in later with the details then.” The man is making the right assumption—that Nino wouldn’t be showing up at all. He had a rotten habit of doing that, just like Ohno used to a couple of years back. There will be another word made to the agency. And with that, an informal beginning to the discussion about the show is made. Sho stretches his forearms and pulls his head in. In the end, he’ll be the one making up for Nino’s absence. Not that he ever contributes a great deal to their meetings anyway.

Less than five minutes into the meeting, while they’re in the midst of listing off possible guests and getting in touch with various agencies and agents, Sho feels something patently kneading against his thigh. At first he didn’t feel it through the thick denim of his jeans, but it had been going on for quite a while without his realizing. When he becomes hyperaware of the touch, he jumps uncomfortably in his seat, knocking his knees hard against the table. This, in turn, wakes Ohno up from the small slumber he’d been subtly enjoying from the opposing side of the table.

“Sakurai-san?” a staff member asks worriedly, but then the AD twists his head and questions Ohno’s behaviour in the same wary manner.

It’s not like Ohno has to explain—everybody has already been informed of his narcoleptic predisposition and generally sleepy nature by Jun.

But Sho—Sho can barely master the skill of thinking on his feet, let alone come up with a feasible excuse on the spot to give for his own interruption. All eyes are on him, undoubtedly, but in resuming his seat and closing his legs together tightly, Sho has given a lot more thought to the hand now sitting curled on his knee. In another passing glance, he sees the stubby fingers and short fingernails and overall chubby shape. They’re unmistakable attributes of a hand he is familiar with. Really, who else could it be? He feels his heart shudder, stop, and then fall in terror all at once. Nino was up to something again—but what exactly? Sho looks down.

“Think,” Nino mouths to him unhelpfully from underneath the table.

The first thing that comes to Sho’s mind is really dumb. Pure and simple.

“Ants,” he mumbles wildly. “I think there could be ants in here. I felt something crawling on me just then.” He frowns and slaps his knee, coming into contact with Nino’s hand and revelling in the little hiss of pain that Nino struggles to supress. He continues to laugh blusterously loud from nerves—there are still a whole lot of disapproving eyes fixed on him—and he bows his head low. “I’m sorry, everyone!”

Aiba just grins helplessly, not quite catching onto the overall atmosphere in the room. “But that’s not possible, Sho-chan. This isn’t their natural habitat!”

Sho’s stomach churns in Aiba-related annoyance, but then he sees Nino whip out of sight. Two seconds later, Aiba gives a howl of pain while furiously rubbing at his shin.

“Matsujun! Did you just kick me?!”

“And why the hell would I do that?” Jun mutters.

Sho honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh, puke or sink into the floor out of sight when the head producer stands up with his hands on his hips. This seems to divert Aiba’s attention away from scoping out whatever or _whoever_ the hell kicked him from underneath the table. He rapidly straightens up like a pencil in his seat, visibly grimacing from, Sho imagines, the pain in his leg.

“You lot are acting very strangely today. Arashi is not usually like this, I’m sure? We’re not going to get anything done in these conditions,” he chides them tersely. “Just because one of you isn’t here, it doesn’t mean the meeting can just be overlooked. Do I need to call your managers?”

Ohno sits up and opens his eyes a little too widely to be considered human. Aiba is shrinking under what Sho can only guess is Jun’s infamous critical gaze from across the table, as if this was all Aiba’s fault that they were getting told off. Sho feels partially to blame, but if he could tell the truth, it was all on the person hidden under the fucking table.

Jun apologizes on behalf of all of them. Sho continues to sit stock still in his chair, hearing and listening to the small, breathy sniggers coming from between his legs. He feels utterly resigned at the return of Nino’s hand on his leg—accompanied by the other hand as well—and together they tease Sho’s legs open and make a speedy ascent to his crotch.

The producer keeps on harping on about Nino’s coincidental non-appearance, seemingly snapping up an opportune moment to criticize Johnny’s as a whole and their notoriety for lack of early correspondence (or worse, not showing up at all).

To Sho, it all goes through one ear and out the other. He shuts his eyes and holds two fingers to his right temple, as if seeming like he was suffering from a headache would look like a good excuse. If only they knew. The bastard was right under their noses. It was proving difficult to hate Nino right in that moment, though, as he undid Sho’s belt slightly and rubbed his stomach. Sho wonders if Ohno has ever been subjected to this sort of treatment in the past.

Nino gives up with the troublesome belt for the time being and cups him impossibly slowly through the denim of his jeans; it’s restrictive but Sho duly feels betrayed by his own anatomy when his cock slowly rouses to the touch and warmth. This goes on for a few minutes before Nino finally wrangles the belt open and tugs his jeans down a little past his hips before working on the zipper to help get rid of the pants altogether a lot easier.

This was like something out of a porno, Sho thinks distantly in a mix of disgust and heat. He jerks and intakes a short breath, holding it when he feels himself spring out of his boxers and Nino’s hot, wet tongue greets the tip only briefly.

Sho slides a little in his seat. He is too terrified to dissent the movements for fear of being caught. It would cause a fuss for one thing. But the thought that Nino could also get busted in this shameful position, though, is slightly inviting to Sho. Would that outweigh his own involvement? Would people actually believe him if he said he was the victim? Would he receive the full blow of the punishment if he took the risk of calling Nino’s bluff and getting them caught?

“…now, have we all agreed on Karina-san being a suitable guest for the last broadcast on the schedule for next week?”

While mulling over these options, Sho panics. How many damn minutes had passed since the complaints about Nino and Johnny’s were being made? How long had he zoned out for? And why had he missed that much without even being aware of the conversation happening around him? His brain is working overtime, processing the feeling of Nino’s right hand massaging his hip bone while the wetter left hand works him, almost encouraging him to thrust into his palm. Sho does his very best to resist but his hips are already moving on their own accord.

Jun disinterestedly mumbles a, “Sounds good,” at about the same time Sho grits out a shrill, “No!” to the whole room at large when Nino’s tongue makes a comeback on the underside of his dick.

All heads swivel in his direction yet again. Biting down on his tongue, Sho curses his timing and discretion, but Nino doesn’t get the memo. He feels himself practically crumble in every sense of the word when something very hot and wet encloses around the head of his cock, surreptitiously sucking. This was not the time. Oh, this was so not the time. It’s not that he didn’t _want_ this to be happening—it just really wasn’t the place or the time. Sho braces his hands against the table and scoots in closer with his chair, doubling over again.

“Sho-kun?” Ohno murmurs ponderingly, his eyes glazed with concern.

“What I mean is…no problem!” he stutters in a strained voice, ignoring Jun’s sidelong analytical and slightly withering expression. He gives Sho a forceful nudge with his shoulder, and Sho lets himself sway, boneless, while Nino somehow manages to take him all the way down into his throat and works the pads of his fingers along the base of his cock and deep into his balls.

If anyone in the group was going to pick up on what was really going on, it’d be Jun. Sho desperately didn’t want that to happen. He needed to avoid that at all costs. He forces his spine back into a decent posture and wills his voice back to its usual business pitch while he feels Nino’s nose nudge the lower part of his belly. “I’ll work on the…the interview questions and do a little research. I think—I think Karina-san has a pet—…”

He breaks himself off without meaning to, holding his jaw with one hand and trying to force the noises that were threatening to come up his throat back down. It all comes out in one shallow breath. Roughly half of his cock was in Nino’s mouth, soaking it in burning warmth and saliva trickling down all sides, while the other was being furiously pumped with nimble singers at an erratic pace. Nino wasn’t giving him any room for respite or to catch his breath. If he came in this room—if he _came_ in this room surrounded by this group of people—Sho would never hear the end of it. And being the only one aware that Nino was the instigator behind it. He couldn’t bear to look at any of them again if he—

“You look rough, Sakurai-kun. I think we’re done for today, then,” the AD says with a grim sigh. “Aside from an unfinished homework corner, but Aiba-san can cover that one before the end of the week. Good work, everyone.”

“I’ll work hard!” Aiba choruses loudly over the others, bowing his head and looking ever-apologetic.

Everyone starts standing one by one and collecting their things, but Sho stays frozen in his seat, sweaty and weighted down by the physical fact that he was about thirty seconds away from having one of the worst orgasms in his life. Well, it wasn’t the _worst_ —far from it—but because of where he currently was—

Oh. It hits Sho square in the head. Damn, Nino was a sly little fox. He’d chosen this time and day deliberately, aware that, in the middle of a formal meeting, Sho couldn’t and _wouldn’t_ dare object to anything obscene being done to him. So long as it was out of sight. This was probably the only way Nino saw it possible to do what he wanted with Sho without the assistance of alcohol or the obstructions of Sho’s repeated refusals. Because this way, nobody would know. And if things went to plan, nobody would _ever_ know. Unless Sho couldn’t control himself. Sho prided himself on his sense of control, and Nino played on that trait; tested it and pushed it to see how far it could be stretched and then broken.

And unfortunately, that lack of control was very close to becoming a reality. He bites back another moan and watches his hands restlessly roam around the table, brushing over unimportant papers and making his pen roll.

“I wonder where Nino is,” Aiba poses his curiosity to the others while adjusting his bag.

“Someone should probably call him. Filming’s about to begin,” Ohno mumbles back conversationally, adding on that Nino probably slept in or took a nap in their dressing room. Aiba murmurs his agreement. Sho is caught in a dilemma between business and a very imminent bout of pleasure when the hand and mouth violently working on him abruptly freeze.

When Nino withdraws his lips, a quiet “shit” sounds from between Sho’s legs. Sho more or less figures out why very quickly and can’t help licking his lips with a smirk. Nino is about to get caught out by his own carelessness and something as mundane as a cellphone ringtone.

Jun takes incentive and pulls out his phone, flipping it open. “I’ll do it. That guy and his gaming hours—seriously…”

“The heating a bit too much for you Sho-chan?” Aiba teases rather than asks, pointing to his dripping forehead and flushed cheeks. “You don’t look so well.” He continues moving without waiting for a reaction.

“I don’t feel too great. You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Sho tells them brokenly, his eyes carefully watching Jun’s slow movements. He waves a hand and mops his brow with it. “I think I’m coming down with something, actually. I just have to submit a few papers here and then I’ll go grab a coffee. Aiba-chan, can you cover—”

“On it!” Aiba says easily with a thumbs-up while he sidles past Ohno and an idle Jun. “I hope you’re feeling better when you come back, Sho-chan. We need you!”

“Thanks.”

There are no misgivings present in any of their expressions, thank god, Sho thinks in silent relief. Ohno leaves first, followed by Aiba and a phone-engrossed Jun. He’d just gotten a new model two days before and was still trialling the most effective way to use it. When Sho stops to consider that in hindsight, it was pretty lucky he was still stuck in that stage and delayed something awful from possibly happening.

Once the door swings half shut, Sho rockets back in his chair and gingerly does up his pants in a sitting position. He hops over to the door while still doing so, and slides the lock across. When he turns back around, he assumes the dirtiest expression known to mankind.

Nino effortlessly slides himself out of his hiding place and stays in a crouched pose. “Before you say anything, I was only making the most of a convenient— _what_? Oh, don’t give me that look. You seemed to have enjoyed yourself quite a lot, Sho-san.” His eyes level meaningfully with Sho’s crotch, his smile indicating he felt he had vindicated his actions.

Sho quickly remembers then that Nino had not finished what he started and left him hanging. Cruelly. He briefly contemplates forcing it back on him, imagines snarling _finish the job_ , shoving Nino to his knees in a fit of anger and turning the situation on the conspirator. But that would give the man too much pleasure and make him think that Sho was into such things. And while he was…that was another thing that didn’t have to be made clear to Nino.

He doesn’t even have to look down to see that he is still very much affected by the stunt that was ambushed on him. The hard-on is waning slightly but is still dying to be taken care of and properly released.

Sho doesn’t bother hiding his exasperation for everything currently happening to him; he shakes his head and rubs his hands over his face in pure frustration—

“I noticed you look uptight lately,” Nino mumbles sullenly. “I only wanted to help you destress.”

“Well, you really fu—”

Nino’s phone finally starts ringing from his pocket. Jun. They both ignore it.

Sho’s hands ball up into fists. “Look, this seriously has to stop. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with the idea of me and sex, but you’re crossing lines, Nino. If you pull something like this again, I swear, I will ruin you.” Sho drops his eyebrows threateningly and even goes as far as to point. “I’m serious. You’ve taken this too far.”

He doesn’t give the subversive time to react, merely reaching over to snatch up his bag and papers. He gives himself one last once-over and takes his leave, slamming the door behind him. “Pissed” does little to cover his mood right now. How the hell was he supposed to work normally in a civil environment where he had a band mate who sought out to virtually molest him whenever the time seemed favourable? Only Nino could make the impossible possible.

As Sho walks, he falters in his steps and re-realizes something important. He _feels_ it. There is no way—no _question_ —that he can host an evening comedy program with a female guest and have a raging erection (and it’s not exactly negligible in skinny jeans). Johnny’s has a reputation. Sakurai Sho has a reputation—no matter how in tatters it currently is. He doesn’t need to add fuel to fire.

Instead of grabbing the aforementioned coffee, Sho makes a last-second detour for the toilet and curses Ninomiya Kazunari’s existence quite literally for the third time that morning.

And it wasn’t even 9.a.m yet.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**5 – in this world full of people, there’s one killing me.**

For about a month or two, Nino doesn’t say or do anything directly sexual to bother Sho. And that’s saying a lot, particularly since they’re constantly up in each other’s faces and spaces, having to interact frequently while filming scenes for _Yamada Taro Monogatari_. While the friendship part of their roles isn’t too hard to create, Sho admits it’s pretty tricky to see Nino as the seventeen-year old humble peasant boy he’s supposed to be playing. He’s doing a decent job of it despite everything. It seems that Nino has compunctions about acting like his usual self if he thinks it’ll straight up affect him and his performance, so he refrains from doing or chatting about anything too weird around Sho.

The recordings go swimmingly; safe for Nino’s character casually turning from Yamada _Taro_ to Yamada _Tamiko_ in the space of one episode and putting Nino in a foul mood that comes and goes.

Sho naively thinks he’s free from the trap he’s been tangled in for the past year or so. But then an indirect attempt is made right in the middle of a _Shukudai-kun_ broadcast that Sho can, as usual, do nothing to prevent from happening.

“I think Sho-chan should try this on,” Nino conspires idly, waving around the coat hanger with the maid costume attached to it. “He likes cosplay a lot, after all.”

Sho swallows in a fusion of dread and defeat. It was _so_ like Nino to be crafty and seek out revenge in front of an audience where everyone could witness it taking place, but this was going a step too far again. Sho hates that he knows what this is in retaliation to, because it makes the whole thing all the more bitter. Once it’s out in the open tough, there’s no retracting it. Not in showbiz. Not when the whole audience is buzzing with squeals and screaming out, “Sakurai Shoko-chan! Sakurai Shoko-chan!”

None of them really supported him. They were all about as sadistic as Nino—only wanting to see him get degraded on TV.

Jun is wearing a pained grimace. “We have a guest,” he mouths tightly to Nino, and Sho has never felt more grateful to have Jun unofficially on his side. “I’d rather not freak out an innocent bystander with our shit.”

“I think it would really suit Sakurai-san!” Nakagawa Shoko counteracts eagerly, admiring the costume. Sho hears the reluctance in her tone, but credits Shoko for her excited tone. She holds a hand to her mouth and bows in Sho’s direction. “Ah, I’m sorry! Shoko nee-san, should I say?”

Nino snorts and pushes a salary man suit towards a mournfully groaning Aiba.

“It was hanging on the rack for a reason, Jun-kun,” he tells Jun petulantly, who is acting strangely counter-productive as he stares at Sho and then back to the dress for some time.

Nino finds himself stuck with a plain shirt vest and skirt—clearly a secretary outfit of some kind. He’s never been the life of the party when it comes to cosplay, and that sits fine with him. He then shoves the frilly dress Sho’s way.

Ohno fingers a Bruce Lee suit, liking the yellow colour (and he is of course a fan of action movies like _Kill Bill_ ). Jun groans at the nurse uniform picked out for him by Shoko. It turns out she was just another enemy within. She makes a few standard comments about it, how it will go with his hairstyle and girlish looks. Jun begs to differ.

He turns to the audience doubtfully. “Do you guys _really_ like this kind of thing?”

“It’ll look cute on you,” Ohno cuts in with a whisper, ever the positive one, as the all-female audience stirred and _woo_ -ed delightedly. “Nurse-Jun.”

“I’m sorry, but when did it suddenly become okay for everybody to give me nicknames?” Jun bemoans in a low voice. He narrows his eyes at Nino, who was undoubtedly the instigator behind that growing pain.

Sho paws anxiously at the hanger holding the dress—now _his_ dress—and worries again about his status in the industry. “Do I really have to wear this? I mean, my shoulders—”

He starts to make the excuse as an absolute last resort, no matter how self-deprecating, but Ogu-san is already shuttling the six of them off towards the doors that lead backstage.

No matter how much Sho denies it to himself, in the end, Nino isn’t totally wrong about the cosplay. Sho is incredibly displeased with Nino knowing these things about him—that Nino knows a _lot_ of compromising things about him, in fact. It came with the package of being in the same close-knit proximity with a person for years, particularly through the agonizing, uncontrollable stages of puberty. It was a private joke amongst the five of them that Sho “liked” cosplay, as well as Ohno being a transvestite because of his frequenting to okama bars and Jun’s recurring workaholic problem that Sho doesn’t judge him for and instead identifies with.

He doesn’t _mind_ cosplay. In general. When it’s anything but dressing up as a maid. The other four all had their fair share of cross-dressing, so he supposes it’s his turn now. He can make peace with it so long as the audience takes too it. That’s all that matters work-wise.

-

Sho steps out from his changing space with relatively more confidence than he had going in, decked from head to toe in his feminine clothing. Sure, his arms looked huge, slanted and structured—way too manly for what he was supposed to be playing the role of. But then again, with the high heels on, his legs don’t look half bad. Better than most girls legs even. That has to be something. And the little lacy headband wedged in his hair perfectly tops the look off.

Ohno comments that from behind he looks exactly like a girl, courtesy of his current longish hair (that is carefully styled) and petite frame. “If you ignore your man shoulders,” Ohno hastens to add with a grin. Sho smacks him in the arm, laughing.

With eerie timing, Nino then walks out along with Aiba. His eyes pause dramatically on Sho, and Sho feels it—feels the way the air in the room freezes and then burns white-hot, watches the way those eyes practically drink him in. It makes the hairs on every inch of his body stand on end. And then it takes him a few seconds to realize that whatever plan Nino had going on, it had backfired spectacularly—if the berry-red face and strategically placed hands in front of his skirt were anything to go by.

Nino continues walking hurriedly, dragging Aiba with him, his nostrils flaring and mouth twitching.

“Your plan went to hell, huh?” Sho whispers to him teasingly as he passes, but Nino returns the fire by flatly muttering, “Bite me,” ignoring Aiba’s, “What plan?” comment and moving towards the doors.

Sho smiles at his retreating back, his skin shamelessly crawling with more shivers while thinking about what was possibly on Nino’s mind right then. Revenge, he imagines. Nino had tried to snatch up the chance to get even with Sho for the cross-dressing part in _Yama Taro_ (Sho had admittedly put in a word with the script writers), but Nino had obviously not counted on his own feelings getting in the way of success. He was too emotionally and physically invested. Perhaps Nino had, once again, underestimated Sho’s distinct sex appeal.

It’s decided that Nino and Aiba will be the first ones to go out as a questionable buchou and secretary co-worker duo. Sho watches attentively from the side as Aiba presses himself into Nino’s back with a breathy giggle, pushing his face into the shorter man’s hair. Aiba is upset by the plainness of his outfit, and Sho can see he’s trying to make it more interesting.

Nino openly groans, a normal groan by all counts, but Sho knows better still, and genuinely can’t ascertain it from a _please stop and get as far away from me as possible right now_ groan, or an _oh god, please, don’t stop, keep going_ groan. Because it was Aiba involved, Sho had reason to think it was probably the former, but…

There. There it was. If Sho didn’t know Nino better (which, unfortunately, he did), he’d think that this was a more than okay situation for him to be in. And he swears he sees Nino (amongst his whinging protests about Aiba being “ _too close—fucking move_ ”) arch his back into the insistence more than once (while Aiba tells him in an undertone that they should, “ _be in character, Nino, so stop squirming and loosen up_.”)

-

Sho takes his time and makes his long-awaited entrance with an expertly deadpan expression, but can’t help smirking in satisfaction once he catches sight of Nino’s eyes fixed intently on him. Just like he thought they would be. They flicker away every now and then, but the interest is there, plain and simple. _Everyone’s_ eyes are on him, but it is Nino’s gaze that matters most. Sho really just wants him to have a taste of his own medicine. Or to at least feel the vexations of something not quite going the way you originally wanted it to.

He performs a little curtsey with the typical maid greeting, then throws in a twirl, all while bunching up the back of his skirt with his hands. He walks over and plays coy, batting his eyelashes and smiling. Even he is surprised by his own submissive attitude. Dressing up does weird things to you, Sho decides. He hears Ohno and Aiba both laughing openly, Ohno the only one being polite about his amusement and trying to snuff out his laughs behind his hand.

“Take a look at yourself,” Jun says in a mixture of disgust and wonder, but Sho doesn’t have to—he’s already seen it all. He takes a quick glance at the monitor anyway and remarks that he looks pretty cute while doing another girly turn. Everyone laughs. Nino duly protests that it’s all very gross with his face planted in his hands. Only Sho is able to see straight through the lie.

He declares his look a “maximum”, earning some more laughs from everyone around him—Nino included.

-

A couple of hours after the filming for the day wraps up, they pile out of the studio and wait for their respective vans to arrive and cart them off to their next individual schedules.

Sho is departing from the main doors with a pair of sunglasses on and his bag slung over his shoulder when he spots Nino dragging Ohno into the bathrooms near the entrance with a harried persistence. Ohno doesn’t even try resisting, letting himself be pulled along.

Jun apparently also sees this and determinedly sets off to find out what’s going on. He should know better, Sho thinks silently. There is a high chance he will regret doing so. When he comes back to stand with Sho and Aiba, he is swearing violently under his breath (and alternatingly loud enough for the other two to hear) about Ohno’s annoyingly passive nature and Nino’s unending imprudence. A deadly combination that “leads to indelicacies at work”, according to Jun’s pissy tone. He is the first to leave, and looks quite glad for it.

Sho just grins to himself and plays around with his bag handle, swapping a contrite smile with Aiba. So it really was an _oh god, please, don’t stop, keep going_ kind of thing earlier on. He hadn’t anticipated leaving such an effect on Nino with the maid thing, but he supposes that it’s a win for him. He adds a point onto his mental scoreboard: _Nino – 4, Sho – 1._

It was progress, at least. Against Nino, a victory was a victory, no matter how small.

Later, Sho makes quiet plans to make his idea of flipping the tables on Nino become a reality. When he’s least likely to sense it coming. One night, he will show up to Nino’s apartment in nothing but a scantily-clad maid outfit (with a trench coat on the exterior, of course—no need to attract unwanted attention on the way there). Maybe he will wear some snapbacks and pantyhose, and heels, too, if he’s feeling in a generous mood. Then again, there was the thought of pleasing Nino a little too much. If today’s slip-up was anything to learn from, it was clear that cosplay—shameful, slutty, girl-themed cosplay—was one of Nino’s many bedroom weaknesses (fetishes).

All in all, Sho has a funny feeling Nino’s number on the scoreboard isn’t going to be raking up any points for a _long_ time to come. But maybe he isn’t the only one keeping score.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so this was porn without a lot of the porn, i guess. sorry. i like teasing nino. he always seems so sure he's going to get what he sets out to do. ;p
> 
> set during 2006/2007, if you got all of the references. i wrote these ages ago. any grammatical mistakes are my own fault; i hate proofreading my own stories. plus...i probably screwed up the chronology of this a lot. sorry again!


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